The Tale of Smauglock and Johnbo Watgins
by Miriamele of Shalott
Summary: In anticipation for The Hobbit film, I took inspiration from Benedict's and Martin's subsequent appearances and wrote this piece, combining the best of both worlds and characters. The seemingly insignificant hobbit Johnbo Watgins ventures into the lair of a dragon by orders of the dwarven king only to discover a startling surprise by gaining a deductive-loving friend along the way.


**Just in time for the long-awaited opening of _The Hobbit_ film, I decided to put this story together. Upon witnessing a shirt online which depicted a cartoon dragon and the word 'Smauglock' beneath it, I couldn't resist but to satisfy myself by combining my two favorite things in the world: Middle-Earth and Sherlock. **

**I pray I do honor to both J.R.R. Tolkien and Steven Moffat/Mark Gatiss.**

**The original ideas belong to them and not I, I fear. I just married them together for some geeky fun! **

**I hope you enjoy!**

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**_Sherlock:_**

**_The Tale of Smauglock and Johnbo Watgins_**

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The rough-hewn cave tunnel, dark and musty with stale smoke, felt warmer than any ordinary one. Its pathway wound down deeper and deeper into the heart of the Lonely Mountain, taking the hobbit Johnbo closer and closer to his long-awaited but much-feared destination. Breath coming in harsh puffs in his exertion and trepidation, Johnbo outstretched his hand to the jagged wall, silently beseeching it to act as his guide until the end. He rubbed at his forehead, wishing by some magic or method he could have at least bathed before he was sent to his death. Now he was all sweaty and grimy from the long journey with the dwarves who had no respect for cleanliness. They couldn't even replace the kerchief he had unintentionally left in his lovely home under a hill very far away. Oh well, he liked them all in spite of their shortcomings. Johnbo just wished he could be a braver and more capable thief like the thirteen men assumed he was.

Thankfully, due to luck and a little uncharacteristic cunning, he had help. Once within sight of the end of this passage and the mouth of the main cave, Johnbo slid his hand into his trouser pockets and retrieved the little gold ring he had won fair and square from that strange unpleasant Gollum creature not too long ago. He was becoming more and more dependent on its bewitching properties, but what else was he supposed to do? Let himself get gobbled up that easily? Absolutely not! Hobbits may be disinclined for adventures as an instinct but when pressured they can be fierce fighters indeed. A piece of hobbit-ish advice: Never let something useful go to waste or you would be to blame. Therefore, there was no reason for Johnbo to give up the ring right now, not yet, when a task still had to be done for his friends. He was keeping a secret from them, true, but it was for their own good in the end. Otherwise he would just throw it away for the rocks and he would be dragon supper. No good from that, that's for certain, so stop feeling so guilty Johnbo and do what you came here to do!

Feeling the now familiar cold metal of the ring, Johnbo slipped it onto his finger and the sensation of wonders coming over his form, to mortal eyes making him disappear. Then he crept to the edge of his hole of safety and looked out to find an immense cavern beyond. The ceiling was high enough to contend the sky, its exact height lost to dark shadows, and the dusty but smooth rocks of the ground were difficult to make out considering it was overcrowded with marvelous things: coins of gold and silver, many-colored jewels, and various odd bits and ends like extravagant goblets and flagons. In essence, every glittering and costly sort of treasure one could possibly imagine; at least all but for a simple hobbit such as Johnbo whose kind had little interest in cutlery and finery fit for kings. He was attentive, however, to the empty and mottled armor and bones cluttered here and there upon the fringes, and he had an adequate imagination in supply for why that was. Johnbo cringed, not liking those images in the slightest.

Stealing himself with frail words of encouragement, for he couldn't turn back now without something to show for it, Johnbo crept through the opening with much tremblings and out into the light emanating from a small torch burning on a brazier attached to the far wall, ripping the shadows into shreds. If he wasn't invisible, he would never have convinced himself to do it. Such as it was, he just managed to reach the closest heap of riches and stuff a few small trinkets into his pockets before a heavy exhalation of air could be heard at his back not far away.

With a gasp, Johnbo spun about and regretted his sudden bout of courage, realizing also that maybe he should have been more thorough in his search before venturing out into such an exposed place. For before him there was sprawled in the midst of the precious hoard a glossy black-scaled dragon with a pale belly-side that was so overpoweringly massive that it could have easily crushed Bag-End. And half of its surrounding burrows along with it.

The deadly creature seemed to sit lazily there as though it bore not a care in the world and would not have minded if it knew there was a burglar in its midst but its eyes said differently. Honed claws raked its lavish bed as though in deep thought, its ice-blue eyes set a startling contrast against the rest of its dark body. The slit orbs glared down at Johnbo's general direction, their piercing spectacle riveted Johnbo to the spot as though he were hypnotized. The poor hobbit could not look away or even move even if his profound fear would have allowed him. If he did not know any better—that he was made magically veiled to the world courtesy of the pilfered gold ring—Johnbo would have thought the dragon knew he was there, for he felt as though those remarkably intelligent eyes were delving into his very soul and seeing all there was to see in there and interpreting it all to mean something else altogether; as though it were wordlessly criticizing him…or considering whether or not he would taste better roasted on a spit or eaten whole and raw.

Johnbo shuddered, his heart hammering painfully against his chest and his skin quaking from curly head to hairy foot. What should he do? He could not run for it, not yet. Perhaps if he just waited still as he could be the dragon would tire of waiting for a theoretical rat and go back to sleep. Holding his breath, Johnbo could do nothing but stare back, praying that the beast would soon turn away.

The worst happened instead.

Just as Johnbo noticed a small blue-striped scarf knotted neatly about his foe's neck between two spikes upon the ridge of its spine—and acknowledging that that little detail would have been incredibly laughable had circumstances not been so…dire—the dragon thrust out that very long neck toward him, its spear-like fangs poking out from under its reptilian lips and getting closer and closer.

The unfortunate fellow flinched. He was just about to cry out in panic and make an effort to take flight when the dragon opened its intimidating mouth, not to take a bite of him, but rather to ask, "And who might you be, eh?"

Could dragons actually _speak_?

Since Johnbo was too stunned to think of an answer quickly enough, the dragon persisted, "Come on, idiot! I know you're there."

"I—sorry how did you know—?" Johnbo stammered almost incomprehensibly and not above a squeak and yet his terrifying audience understood well enough.

"Obvious," the fierce creature sneered, rolling its eyes. "I am a _dragon_, if you recall, my auditory and olfactory capabilities are far more heightened than most others."

Johnbo blinked stupidly up at the other, his mouth shamelessly hanging open, whether due to incomprehension or just plain fear Johnbo could not quite distinguish. "But…I'm invisible…"

The dragon sighed loudly. "That means my hearing and sense of smell are extremely good," he responded slowly as though translating to a dimwit, emphasizing his description by pointing his index talon at his tiny ear holes and nose, respectively. "Therefore, I could smell and hear you the moment you sauntered through that oh so secret dwarven passageway that has been there for longer than I have but since I have lived here alone for decades and needed things to occupy my mind, have long since been aware of its existence. And not to mention the fact that not only can I see your shadow on the wall, I also, by virtue of my own dragonly powers, can tell there is something magical going on there and someone bringing about said magic. I don't need to fully _see _you to know you are there. As I said before, obvious." At this, the dragon waved dismissively, his dagger-like claws getting much too close to Johnbo's chest for comfort.

Slowly turning so as to make less noise, Johnbo glanced behind himself and, sure enough, a curly-headed big-footed hobbit-sized shadow was shifting obscurely upon the cracked gray cave wall behind him, solidly giving him away. He cursed inwardly then returned his full attention to the one that was actually a physical threat to him. _Blasted ring! Confounded sorcery and its fickle ways!_

What was Johnbo to do now? How could he get out of _this_? He did not think his luck would reach as far as this. As if even his thoughts were unsafe, Johnbo refused to give in to the temptation to peer back at the black tunnel and try to make a run for it. Dying today would just simply not do. His troop was relying on him, after all...

Maybe he could try and trick him like he did with Gollum or fight with Sting at his side like with the spiders…not likely would he live to recount the tale of it to anyone. No one would like the ending anyway, especially he.

"You still haven't answered my original question, Sneaky One," the dragon rumbled, his snout only five meters away. Smoke curled from his flared nostrils, a silent forewarning, the acrid smell of it, like brimstone, made Johnbo's nose wrinkle. "Who…are…you? And have done with that invisibility lark now, it's useless and…irritating to say the least."

"How do I know you won't eat me if I do?" Johnbo replied, his voice so wavering and small and helpless as a mouse in comparison to the deep thunder of his companion's that it made the former feel even more vulnerable and at the latter's mercy, thin and fragile is it was if it existed at all. How he could speak so boldly or at all for that matter in such circumstances was beyond him.

"Oh, please, you're too interesting for that…for now," he gave a low guttural chuckle which made Johnbo shiver. "Besides, I am much too outspoken for deception, have no fear. If I'm about to make you a snack, you'll know when I do."

Swallowing a dry thick knot past his throat, Johnbo quietly weighed his choices for a moment and figured if such an ancient and weaponized predator wanted him dead there was nothing he could do about it. Might as well try and keep the beast's anger in check and not increase the danger needlessly, distract it whilst throwing together an escape plan, whether slipshod or not. So, without further ado but much hesitation, Johnbo took hold of the little golden ring and did what was against his nature, nudging it to his fingertip before hiding it once more. Abruptly, once he reappeared in all his hobbitish glory, he felt like in doing so he was stepping out of shelter into an unruly tempest or giving a sword permission to rest just below his chin. He took a deep breath then took a gander at his captor's reaction, which was far different than he ever figured it would be.

The dragon was silent a moment, his enthralling eyes narrowed and flickering from one part of Johnbo to another as though studying him like a good book. If it was possible, Johnbo swore a smirk was forming on the shining scales of that savage face.

Feeling considerably naked and awkward, Johnbo made up his mind to do something he would never deign to do ordinarily but realized anything would be better than this endless gawking, especially since it seemed like it was burning up his insides not to mention his cheeks which were probably red as cherries by now. Clearing his throat, Johnbo stooped into a low bow and belatedly pronounced, "Johnbo Watgins, at your humble service, Sir Dragon." More than ever, he felt like a dwarf. Not entirely a bad thing to him anymore.

"Smauglock, how do you do?" the dragon responded idly. Suddenly, he began to guffaw even louder this time. "My, my, brilliant, utterly brilliant! How amusing, how interesting! Aren't you a contradiction on two legs?"

Johnbo's brow crinkled in confusion. "How do you mean?" At least the dragon—Smauglock—was entertained; otherwise he would never behold his beloved hobbit-hole again. Hopefully, he could keep the monster's fascination piqued until he could reach the makeshift doorway…

"Oh, come now, Mr. Watgins. May I call you Johnbo? Thank you," Smauglock lilted even though his question went unanswered. "So, let's get started." Here he rubbed his two hand-like limbs together and licked his chops in avid anticipation. "Of course, you are a hobbit, oh, don't look like that, it's not that much of a surprise! Goodness sake, what other people has such mop-like hair that is also present on those horridly ugly feet? And without the beard or loftier stature, it's more than enough data to convince anyone with half a mind what you are. You are certainly _not _an Elf!" he scoffed indignantly.

He continued without a breath, "I have been about Middle-Earth quite a bit before I came here and, though you are quite a rare lot, a novelty even, to be seen outside of your beautiful Hobbiton or even Bree for that matter, but I am quite learned in these things and know all about you. Which brings up the puzzling bits about you such as why did you leave in the first place? Well, looking at you more closely, I can tell you've been around…twelve, no, thirteen dwarves for several months, living in uncivil conditions, thus you are on a journey. Against your better judgment I might add. Hired as a thief, obviously, since you have already plundered a portion of my booty by their orders. Not with much finesse sadly which means you are definitely an amateur. Considering you don't fancy unpredictable things like adventures or breaking your own morals, you were talked into it by an old friend. And it must have been for good reason…hmm, to help people, I would wager. Help the dwarves get their land and gold back I'm sure. Oh, and you have some skill with medicine, a little with a sword, and you have a limp from a recent injury in your right leg."

All through the dragon's quick-tongued rant, Johnbo's eyes had gotten progressively bigger and his mind stilling his body in shock until, at its conclusion, John burst out, "Amazing! That's absolutely amazing! You're right on all counts. How did you do that?" He shook his head slowly in disbelief.

"I—" For once, Smauglock was the one who was lost for words now, his hairless brow furrowing. "I just observe, it's what I do, it's not taxing, merely second nature I should think. No one's…ever appreciated my intelligence before…" He wrung his fingers together. "You really liked it?"

"Of course! It was spectacular! I can't understand why people wouldn't admire you for it…well," Johnbo backtracked none too subtly. "Well, you are a dragon and your kind tends to eat the rest of us so pay no heed to them, Smauglock. They don't know anything!"

Johnbo grinned widely and Smauglock smiled uncertainly in return, his sharp teeth gleaming and otherworldly orbs lighting up at the unexpected sound of his own name.

After puffing out a small cough in a wisp of dark grey mist, Smauglock gestured toward the wall just beyond the mountain of wealth. "There is a pool of fresh water over there. Perhaps, you would like to wash the filth off after so long without the convenience of a bath…"

"Oh, er, that would be good, thanks," Johnbo said then made his way to where the dragon had motioned. Although some of his fright had inexplicably faded by Smauglock's impressive demonstration, he was not foolish enough to trust a dragon completely. His panic was eased but he was still wary. And so, whilst keeping a vigilant eye on his host, Johnbo ambled up to the underground water spring, knelt down, and dipped his hands into the cool rejuvenating liquid.

As Johnbo happily scrubbed his face and arms and took gulp after gulp, Smauglock cantered elegantly to a nearby pile of human remains and sniffling through them—compelling Johnbo to momentarily stiffen in renewed panic—then to a magnificently carven chest where he rummaged through the contents therein before sidling up next to Johnbo, his prodigious claws laden with tiny objects. The dragon gently dropped his bundle beside the hobbit whose glanced back-and-forth between the gifts and Smauglock, his expression teetering between curiosity and suspicion.

"Oh, do refrain from the skepticism, it's so _boring_," Smauglock griped with a strangely human-like grimace. "There's nothing harmful in there, all right? I don't need any help to dispose of intruders." With this, he unfurled his disturbingly lethal talons. Johnbo started and scooted back involuntarily. "Just open it already!" he demanded, sounding remarkably close to an overly excited child.

Doing as he was bid with a strained smile, Johnbo gritted his teeth and plucked apart the dragon's little package, ready to leap back if what lay beneath was not to his taste. Unfolding a ragged moth-eaten tunic from an ill-fated knight he reckoned and restraining the bile collecting in his throat, Johnbo discovered a marvel indeed beneath and a pleasant one what's more. Before him lay a whole turnip, a sweet onion, a leek, and a small chunk of cheese with an adjoining heel of bread. Eyes filled to the brim with surprise, gratitude, and delight, Johnbo grinned more genuinely up at his host.

"I cannot thank you enough! Gracious me, here are the true treasures," he whispered in awe.

The dragon nodded knowingly. "Thought you would say as much, you are a hobbit after all and doubtless have not had a proper meal in weeks. Veritable lovers of a good meal if nothing else, your kin are. Eat up, now, but don't choke, if you please." Smauglock unleashed a pronounced sniff then settled in beside his diminutive guest, fluidly curling up on the stony ground in fashion of a cat in the lee of a burning hearth, forcing Johnbo to come to real terms with the creature's actual and very _real_ size that bespoke of the precarious situation he was still in regardless of niceties and generosity.

After peeling away the disgusting rag so as to keep his appetite with him and the lovely food in his stomach, Johnbo dug into his fine repast, making sound use of the little bejeweled dagger that had been placed beside them, aware that if need be he could defend himself even better with two blades instead of one if the occasion called for it.

"Sorry about the glaring want of meat or more bread and cheese, but on account of the former I indulge myself immediately in those fancy sweet meats the two-legged's carry about sometimes once I procure them, by accident or by design, and on the latter, I usually use those items for experiments with the mice and any other animals that skitter about here. Interesting as it is and gives me something to do," he sighed, suddenly one of sorrow.

Johnbo glanced up at him in surprise, his mouth full of a blend of onion, bread, and cheese, nodding and humming and gesturing to demonstrate his compassion and a wordless expression meant to say, "Nonsense!"

Once he swallowed, he clarified, "No, not at all. I love all that's here! It's not much different than what my little pantry stores back home. Ta!" At this, Johnbo raised his turnip in the air like a goblet of mead and then proceeded to bite into it like an apple. "By the way, you're, er, you're not doing this to fatten me up before you eat me…are you?"

"Absolutely not! You're fat enough…Besides I'm not about to eat you, all right? Dragon's honor." His host raised an astoundingly thin arm in salute.

"That makes me feel so much better," Johnbo muttered sarcastically. Whilst chewing on his last morsel, he peeked up at the dragon more closely, noting how even more ethereal he looked with the shadows rippling on the sharp angles and high cheekbones of the beast's face. The astounding cleverness and impressive power emanating off of Smauglock in waves gave Johnbo sudden chills. For several moments, the dark monstrosity was silent, pondering Johnbo guessed, his long vicious talons upraised in prayer-fashion under his chin.

As though recalling the hobbit's presence, Smauglock shook himself and stated, "I would offer you tea and cake but I'm afraid we are all out at the moment. Now, if you please, I would be very honored if you were to take a look at something. I have acquired a wound of my own of late, if your skills could be put to the test, as it were? You could say in exchange for the supper…" Smauglock pleaded, raising the end of his black tail so it was closer to Johnbo and could be seen in the light.

"Er…oh, oh, right, of course, if you like. Though be warned, I have little experience with dragon anatomy," Johnbo asserted but bending over the limb for better inspection all the same. Toward the edge of the thick, heavy appendage, the scales had been slashed clean off by a whetted instrument, mostly dry blood but a handful of fresh blood was spread across it like butter. Thankfully, there seemed to be no puss so no infection. "Hmm, just seems to me no more than a flesh wound, a gash at most, but I can go out later and gather some herbs to boil for an ointment if you like. You should be right as rain then."

"Splendid," the dragon conceded modestly with a bow of his ponderous head, a little relieved at the pronouncement of his good fortune. "I would be greatly obliged."

"Fight with a knight, was it?"

"Something like that," Smauglock confessed mysteriously. "I mostly eat sheep and cows, you understand, when my body demands it and there's no avoiding the way digestion slows down my thoughts. I only down the people when they're annoying me with their stupid pitchforks…and when they call me a freak and such. The taste of you people is less pleasing than your livestock, believe me!"

"I'm sorry they do that to you. That's just…just terrible," Johnbo said, his voice hushed.

"Oh? What a rather odd thing to say for one as small as you about such as I. But their comments don't hurt me. Their scraping tongues continually bother me when I'm trying to concentrate."

"Concentrate? On what?"

"My observations, of course!" he chided as though the little hobbit should know better already. "Like what I did with you earlier, I can break down everything about the lives of everyone near me just from a few simple details and subsequent deductions."

"Really? Is that how you did it?" Johnbo exclaimed, dazzled.

"I can even tell when something is about to go awry, who needs what…who committed atrocities and how. How to defeat evil lords even…There's quite a beauty now stirring in the East as we speak. I just need to look at clues and take some time to think. Then I can solve so many troubles. But no one will listen to me!" Here, with an aggravated sneer, he pounded his fist down, making the ground quake and a thin stream of flames to fume from his mouth. Johnbo winced. "Because I'm a _dragon_!" his host finished with an expression of mock horror.

Johnbo giggled. "When it comes to other dragons, I don't blame them. You're not the same though. No one knows you like I do."

At once, Smauglock's hopeless eyes spun back to his companion, his scarf swaying comically, before becoming instantly hopeful and lively again as they sparked with some idea hidden far beneath. "Something strikes me…Look here. I might have a proposition for you, Johnbo."

The hobbit chomped down nervously on his lip. "Oh?"

"None of that now," his host frowned. "I just want to suggest an exchange is all. Your dwarven friends," his lips shriveled up in a brief look of distaste, "want their land and treasure back, yes?"

Johnbo nodded, leery still.

"And I am—literally—sitting atop their coveted kingdom. Well, if you offer your services to me I will gladly forsake this countryside and hand over to the dwarven king precisely what he desires."

The master of Bag-End perked up. "That would be wonderful! To so easily grasp what we have strove for, after all we've suffered…" His face fell once more in realization. "But what do you mean 'services'? I'm not sure I like the sound of that…"

"Oh, nothing terrible; I believe you'll like it in truth," Smauglock commenced to persuade. "All I ask is that you follow me about to various places as deemed necessary for my deductive investigations, to act as a mediator if you will between my brilliance and the villagers and leaders who are…less than eager to have dealings with a dragon."

"Me? You want _me_ to help? But I'm nobody, nothing!"

"Oh don't be ridiculous," the dragon snapped. "As a hobbit, you are an exceedingly agreeable and harmless creature. And after associations with your distinguished friends, people will hear you out and my claims will finally be heard. I can finally be _right_," he said, his strange long face becoming wistful and riddled with longing. "People will be aided in their strife, lands could be saved, and wars put to a halt. And you can give me some impromptu medical attention or check my unpredictable humors so innocents don't get thrown into my gullet. Besides, I like you which proves a rarity indeed."

Johnbo profusely blushed and his heart warmed.

"You even possess a special talent for magic to boot."

"Not really. Magical ring, more like." Johnbo almost could not understand why he just revealed what he could not to anyone else. Almost.

Smauglock rubbed his neck in thought. "Oh, I see. How did you come by such a startlingly magnificent trinket anyhow?"

"Found it by an underground lake," Johnbo shrugged. "I was saved from being consumed by a repulsive thing by a game of riddles."

The dragon's eyes popped open. "Interesting. Even more reason to keep you around…"

"But how could I _follow_ you? And what about going back home to my hobbit-hole?"

"Good heavens, you are demanding. None of the above is irredeemable. You can ride on my back whilst I fly from one country to the next. And we will need a place to stay now and then. Isn't there a large enough area in Hobbiton I could take rest?"

"Er…well, there's always the field by the Party Tree." He chuckled to himself. "I never thought I would see a dragon in Hobbiton during my lifetime after so long an absence. And flying? I'm not sure that would be a very comfortable form of conveyance for me but I must admit it sounds very…exciting."

"Of course it's exciting, you'll love it! We are in accordance then! You can now retreat back to your dwarven clutch and tell them the good tidings, that they can move back in and you and I will set off in the morning for grander pursuits before wending our way to that hallowed hillside of yours." He leaned in closer to Johnbo in the spirit of familial conspiracy. Amazingly Johnbo no longer felt inclined to scramble away or even to be afraid at all. "Now you have tasted the sweet flavor of adventure in full, I fear you won't be able to go back to that boring life of yours again anyway."

"You know what, Smauglock? I believe you may be right, as usual."

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**I purposefully changed from referring to Smauglock as "it" to "he" because, as Johnbo got to know the dragon detective better, he became more and more human to him. He progressively became a friend to him.**

**Secondly, I tried incorporating violin-playing in here but it didn't quite make it. Huge talons and little fiddle strings don't mingle well together...**

**Please review! I would love to hear your thoughts!**


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